Two weeks ago I cleaned out the corner desk in the living room to make it my writing space. I off-loaded the desktop computer to my husband to take to his work, cleaned, dusted and vacuumed under and around. I've installed my laptop with an external monitor, mouse, and keyboard, and now am carefully positioning important or attractively-covered books onto the shelves.
I moved the carved Mary statue that Aunt Carol gave me from the bedroom cabinet to one of the shelves, I have also acquired a new fountain pen.
What I have NOT done much of, except when all else fails, is write.
In fact, I am not going to write any more now, I've found my copy of The Long Dark Teatime of the Soul and I'm going to read that instead.
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